


elevator jingles

by orphan_account



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elevator sex. Pure smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	elevator jingles

**Author's Note:**

> I can honestly say this was a team-effort by at least four people.

Once. That's the number of times they've fucked before. Once, during Worlds, Johnny's first World Championship ever. Four years ago now.

Johnny wouldn't exactly say it was the fuck of his life - not that Johnny _talks_ about things like that. But if was definitely an experience worth repeating, which is exactly what he thinks - thinking's allowed - when Brian grins at him in the elevator.

It's just the two of them, easy music coming over the loudspeakers. Johnny smiles back, a curl of his mouth and licks his lips; it's a game they've been playing since the banquet started, Brian brushing up against him under the table, hands touching whenever they moved in the same direction. Johnny's fingers found their way underneath Brian's shirt at one point, at another, Brian was standing so close at his back that his breath sent hot shivers down Johnny's spine, cock half-hard against his ass.

The hand on his groin, reaching around his waist, catches him by surprise; it's true, waiting twenty floors is about three minutes too many, but -

And that is when Brian crowds him against the sidewall of the little room, fuck the little sound - an easy _ping_ \- that tells them they've reached their floor. Neither of them moves, Brian's hands on either side of Johnny, keeping him caged as he presses their bodies together, front to back, from their thighs to their necks. He licks his way up from the little stripe of free skin towards Johnny's jaw and his ear.

"You're a little hot like this," he says in French.

Johnny's eyebrow rises. "A little?" Then, "Can't wait till we're in our room?"

Brian smirks and kisses the corner of his mouth. "How about I fuck you here instead?"

Johnny's eyebrows rise even higher. "And who says you'll be doing the fucking?"

It's not like they aren't halfway there, and Brian's using his right hand to unbutton his pants, slipping past the waistband to touch his cock. Johnny feels all blood rush south and bites his lip, forcing himself not to rock into Brian's hand, not to react.

"Smart mouth," Brian teases. "Don't think you'll be talking that much when I've got you out of your panties."

"I don't wear - mh," Johnny protests and then stops protesting. He has to twist his head to kiss, Brian's tongue in his mouth. It feels good, that slow, steady thrust of his tongue as his fingers close around Johnny's cock fully, jerking him off in the same way, nothing rushed or hurried about it. Brian's cock is hard against him, Johnny notices and closes his eyes, enjoying the sensations that wash over him, the kiss, the hotness of Brian's palm.

They part with a little wet sound, taste of smoke (does Brian smoke?), lingering tang of some sweet drink, maybe coke, mixing into the salty tease of sweat. Johnny can almost scent his dangerous little triumph as he pushes Johnny's jeans past his hips with one hand, pulling his boxers along.

Johnny tries to push against the hold Brian has on him; Brian's left hand somehow managed to grasp both of his wrists above his head, but he's standing _exactly_ so that every shove feels like he's going to blow his joints out. "Fuck, Brian," he snaps. "We're in fucking public. If someone pushes the fucking elevator button somewhere on the fifth floor, we're screwed!"

Brian grins against his neck. "It's long past midnight. The easy crowd's in bed."

"And- fuck," Johnny jerks and his shoulders hurt. Brian's got hold of his cock again, rubbing lightly. "And the rough crowd?" he manages to get out, glaring daggers at the wall he's facing.

Brian kisses him again. "They've seen it all before."

"You're mad."

"I'm adventurous. There's a difference."

"Oh, really?"

Brian smiles. "Yes."

Johnny feels his lungs burn with effort not to gasp at the attention his cock's getting, worked up and hard and hot in Brian's hand, tugging and jerking. "So you're just going to do it? Here?" He's flushing, can feel his face warm up.

"Mh-mh." Brian's hand leaves Johnny's cock and touches his hip, wanders over his spine, down, down, over the smooth line of his backbone, down his ass, fingers tracing the line between his cheeks. "'m gonna spread you wide," he murmurs, "and gonna fuck you so hard, bury myself in your hot little body and listen to you gasp and moan and - maybe even scream." Johnny's body jerks him back into attention, heart skipping a beat at the words; his neck feels hotter than before where Brian places a gentle kiss that contradicts his words. "And you're going to like every second of it."

Johnny bites his lip and pretends not to feel the gentle push against his hole, slight tear of concentration as the touch vanishes. Breath caught, Johnny tenses, expecting almost the kiss, tongue licking over his lips, his teeth, flash of pink. He imagines what it would be like, having that tongue, wet, sharp, skilled tongue wetly slide over his cock where Brian's hand has been minutes before and the image overlaps reality, makes the soft smell and sound of the elevator - the fucking elevator, wake the fuck up! - vanish. Completely.

Johnny imagines a mirror, a mirror in which he could watch Brian going down on him, or Brian screwing him, the arching of his spine as Brian fucks him, angling his hips to let Johnny have tantalizing glimpses of their joined bodies.

"Make that sound for me," Brain whispers smoothly, his French fluid like water; his fingers are back at Johnny's hole, pressing. "The - yes. God, that's so sexy."

Johnny gasps again, an embarrassing writhing sound, accompanied by the trembling need to just push back onto Brian's fingers. This'll so get him that ticket to hell, this, and fuck, if one of the younger skaters is still awake, wandering the fucking floor and anyone pushes the fucking button the door will swing open and there'll be _no_ time to even pull apart, much less get his jeans back up.

"Fuck," he gasps, again. Brian's smile is as sweet as ever when he glances at him, but the promise of sex is all over his expression, a heavy taste on his tongue.

Then it turns mischievous. "Look at you," Brian murmurs into his ear, finally sliding a first finger inside his body, slowly, watching. Johnny closes his eyes, breathes hard. "You're such a hypocrite, playing all innocent when really, you're gagging for someone to fuck you good and hard." He bites Johnny's neck, licks at it. "How often've you been replaying it in your head while jerking off, Johnny? A lot, huh, aching for the sweet stretch of a bigger cock than you usually get?"

"Shut up," Johnny jolts into standstill, no longer fucking himself back onto Brian's fingers. He waits for it to resume, but Brain lingers, not giving him an inch. "C'mon, finish up already -"

"Impatient," Brian grins. "Want to finish up yourself?"

The fingers slither out of his body immediately, leaving Johnny wanting, anticipation lingering. Brian is playing with his own zipper, slowly untugging his shirt, much too slowly. His hands have long left Johnny's wrists, restraints no longer necessary. Johnny takes a sharp breath, wheezing in the air he needs to fill his lungs. Every nerve in his body is burning.

"Well?"

Johnny starts turning from the wall to face Brian, but Brian's back in a second. His hands are harsh on Johnny's naked hips; it feels strange, jeans lingering around his ankles, unable to whirl around, letting Brian take the lead. "I'm not going to -"

Brian kisses him, tongue winding into his mouth. Then he's gone again. Instead, he's got a hold of Johnny's hands, smile like a fucking gold medalist, and 'that's me, fuck you,' Johnny wants to say, but instead, Brian brings Johnny's fingers to his mouth and lets his tongue slide over them _just like Johnny imagined_.

His mouth curls around his thumb beautifully, licking at it with enthusiasm and obvious pleasure, then he frees Johnny's hand and goes back in for a kiss - really enjoys the kissing, Johnny thinks, and Johnny has to admit that might be because he's a fantastic kisser, all soft tongue and back-and-forth pushing, twining and wrapping around Johnny's tongue and eating out Johnny's mouth like he wants to savor every last taste.

He doesn't protest anymore when Brian guides his hand, makes him coat his hole with cooling saliva, uttering, soundly, "C'mon, open yourself up, show me how you fuck yourself with your fingers when you haven't got anybody to put a dick inside you."

Johnny hisses and complies, too slow, apparently, because Brian helps, holds his hand and makes him do it faster, with quick expert thrusts, almost like he's really doing the fucking already. It feels good, better than when he does it on his own, merely fantasies to help along; this is real, this is Brian staring as he stretches the muscle, gets ready opening himself so that Brian can screw him into the wall.

Brian's hands leave his body only shortly, Johnny barely hears the sound of his trousers falling to the ground, jingling a little, nor does he really see Brian getting rid of his underwear, not until Brian's standing behind him naked from the waist down, shirt barely covering his cock; Johnny remembers it - he hasn't fucked _that_ many people not to remember every single person he's let do this to him. It's a little different, but still fucking perfect, like almost everything about Brian is perfect, right down to the freckles on his thighs and arms.

"You ready?" he asks breathlessly. He's still scrambling with a condom he's fished out of his back pocket, working the wrapper open.

Johnny takes a deep breath - another one - and nods. His cock feels like it's bleeding from too much pressure, and he wants to come, he just wants to come right now, wouldn't probably even need Brian's dick inside him if it came down to Brian watching him get himself off - but he wants Brian, of course, wants him inside, wants to feel him, buried, coming.

He's going to hold out. It's going to be the revenge for fucking him in the fucking elevator, going longer than Brian can. He really hopes Brian can't go for _too_ long.

He stops hoping when he feels Brian's cock finally, fucking finally settle against his hole. He feels his body tense, feels the twitch of anticipation and his hands clench into fists at the feeling of dragging slowness because Brian. Is not doing. _Anything_.

"Fuck you," Johnny manages.

He can smell Brian's smile in the air, and then Brian's inside him in one hard thrust, as good as his kissing is, or maybe that tiny bit better; Johnny feels himself rise with the motion, almost onto his toes, arching his neck and back and all his muscles tense; anticipation doesn't do much, surprise always, always hits him when he last expects it, how good it feels, how fucking fantastic the sensation is of someone breaching him and settling inside of him.

By the time Brian starts to move, easy, smooth motions, flesh clinging and stretching at every shove, Johnny's gulping down air like he's a drowning man drinking water, luscious first taste and a mountain of fucking _need_ behind it.

The gasps come easy after that, little moans of pleasure, and he works for it, riding Brian's cock, close to _swaying_ back and forth to make him go deeper, find the spot that makes jolts run up his spine over and over again, like magic, like a fucking brain-dead person getting the volts from electroshock therapy.

Of course, nothing is ever as easy, and certainly not with Brian, who's fucking him now with slow, easy pushes, shoving his whole body into the wall over and over - not that Johnny cares, all he can feel is the point where they're joined, the slide of Brian's cock against his hole, his warm fingers against Johnny's waist, slick from touching the lube on the condom.

Johnny thinks he must be close to coming - _must_ , by the sounds he's making, keening little groans that sound like they're being pulled out by spiked barbs, and his cock's still moving; however, when Johnny tries to reach for his own cock with his hand, to stroke himself to completion, giving up - ready to throw this one, because how long can a person stand being screwed before their knees give out on them?

"None of that," Brian hisses into his ear, dangerously low, dangerously _close_ , and Johnny can hear that in his voice, despite the still lazy thrusts, despite the way his fingers aren't quite grasping hard enough to leave bruises all over his sides.

"I _need_ -"

"You need a dick in your mouth to shut you up," Brian growls and pulls out until just the tip of his cock's inside before he rocks once more back inside.

"Fuck you," Johnny repeats, because there is no way he can think of a more intelligent reply.

"Want to come, huh?" Brian smiles. "So badly?"

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," Johnny sing-songs, and his resolve not to give in to this strengthens. Brian's motions get more pointed, less otiose, senseless, and he grips Johnny's hips harder, hissing breath releasing between his teeth as he fucks into him.

Johnny tries to keep his body from straining back towards Brian, tries not to react so damn fucking much, but it's too good and he only wants more, wants the shudders and the ripping muscle of Brian's stomach against his back, wants him close and far away and back close. Another shudder washes over him, heat and making him flush even worse than at the beginning, making him _this_ close to coming, just half an inch more and he'd have been lost, and when he clamps down, forces himself to _not_ come, hands clenched so tight his fingernails shoot pain through his whole body, Brian gives a little moan behind him, stiffens, and crashes over the edge full-force, taken completely by surprise.

Johnny squeezes his eyes shut, sensation of Brian coming inside him, the harsh breathing against the nape of his neck. A single motion'll bring him along, he knows, just a single fucking touch -

\- and Brian knows that, of course, and he only hesitates a split second, time he needs to re-focus, before he thrusts again, driving another gasp, one of those he loves so much, out of Johnny, deep from his throat, and then he keeps going, fucking Johnny through his whole orgasm. What finally sends Johnny over the edge is the feeling of Brian's fingers added to the clamping tightness of his cock inside Johnny, skimming over the raw edge of his hole, just a press against the inevitable, a touch, fingertips rubbing, stretching, and Johnny's done.

He doesn't even feel the short kiss on his sweat-drenched neck, a lick of tongue, because _fucking finally_ , and Johnny's clenching and shuddering and freezing up and letting go, shaking, twisting inside himself almost from the intensity of it all. Brian's out, pulled back, but instead of letting him have this, on the brink and falling over, he slams his fingers into Johnny once more and fingerfucks him through the orgasm, his left hand tight around Johnny's cock, adding another wave of sensation.

The elevator will never be the same again, Johnny realizes when he finds himself collapsed against the wall, forehead-first, breathing so harshly like never before in his _life_. There's come all over the wall, and - that's kind of funny. It's hilarious, actually, fucking genius and he can't help it, he breaks out in laughter.

Brian's sitting, of course, the bastard, not clinging to the wall like a fucking idiot, and he's smiling. He seems mighty proud.

"Fuck you," Johnny says. It's not original, but it gets the job done.

Brian laughs at that, too. "Maybe next time."

Johnny cocks his head. "Next time?"

"Mh-mh." Brian smirks. "I'll rim you."

Johnny breaks out in laughter again. "There's a promise."

Brian shrugs. "I like to keep you entertained."

"I'd be entertained if you'd brought stuff to clean up."

"Oh."

"Mh-mh," Johnny imitates smoothly. "Didn't think of that, did we?"

It's Brian's turn to flush. "Eh. No?"

Johnny rubs his forehead. "Shit. How are we getting out of here now?"

 

Of course, that is when the elevator starts moving down.

 

~*~


End file.
